With the grain stores selling at inflated prices, the government swiftly accumulated a staggering amount of silver.
Wu Shen's heart bloomed like a flower in spring.
"Money," he murmured in disbelief. "I finally have money again."
Unfortunately for him, the warmth of that silver hadn't even had time to reach his palms—
Before Li Daoxuan appeared at the entrance of his residence.
The man strolled in casually, birdcage in hand, as if out for a morning walk.
"Lord Wu," Dao Xuan Tianzun said pleasantly, "I hear the refugees of Xi'an recently encountered a stroke of fortune and purchased quite a lot of grain from the government stores."
Wu Shen's heart sank.
Dao Xuan Tianzun continued lightly, "That must mean your coffers are rather full now."
Wu Shen swallowed.
"And the celestial fertilizer," Dao Xuan Tianzun added, tilting the birdcage slightly, "was purchased on credit from my side. Since money has arrived, it seems… appropriate to settle old accounts."
If Wu Shen had been a corrupt official, he might have tried to dodge.
But he wasn't.
He was upright to the point of inflexibility—a scholar whose bones were harder than iron when it came to promises.
A debt was a debt.
And so, with visible pain, Wu Shen watched as the silver he had just acquired flowed back—coin by coin—into Dao Xuan Tianzun's hands.
When it was done, Dao Xuan Tianzun smiled faintly.
"Lord Wu," he said, "with the refugees buying grain like this, your stores must be nearly empty by now."
Wu Shen sighed heavily. "If this continues two or three more times, the government granaries will be completely drained."
"That's easy to fix," Dao Xuan Tianzun replied. "I still have grain in my own stores."
Wu Shen looked up sharply.
"You may purchase it on credit," Dao Xuan Tianzun said. "Sell it as relief grain. You are a man who repays his debts—I trust you."
Wu Shen's face lit up like a lantern.
"On credit?" he exclaimed. "That's wonderful! I'll take it—every bit of grain you have!"
Their agreement had barely been concluded when panicked shouts erupted outside.
"The Prince of Qin's men!" someone cried.
"They're heading for the celestial fertilizer shop again!"
"There are a lot of them—and they're carrying clubs!"
Wu Shen's expression changed instantly.
Dao Xuan Tianzun, however, chuckled softly.
"No need to panic," he said. "My people are already there."
He turned. "Come. Let's watch."
The grain store and the celestial fertilizer shop were close—half a street and one turn away.
Wu Shen rushed ahead in a frenzy.
Dao Xuan Tianzun followed at an unhurried pace. Walking too fast would disturb his bird.
By the time he reached the corner, the street before the fertilizer shop had already descended into chaos.
This time, the Prince of Qin's household guards had abandoned all pretense.
No shouting. No warnings.
They raised their clubs and charged like street thugs, intent on smashing first and talking later.
The Gao Family Village Militia responded instantly.
Clubs were pulled from beneath the counters.
Fifty men surged forward.
Fifty against fifty.
The rule was simple: never let the enemy know how much strength you truly have.
The crowd scattered at once.
Everyone in Xi'an knew better than to stand between imperial kin and civil power.
In moments, the entire street became a battlefield.
Clubs whistled through the air.
Bodies slammed into stone.
This was Xi'an.
Ordinarily, military officers would have intervened.
But this was a fight between royal blood and bureaucratic backing.
The military pretended not to see.
The Provincial Governor pretended not to hear.
The Prefect pretended not to exist.
And so the outcome would be decided by fists.
Zheng Gouzi twisted aside, narrowly avoiding a downward strike. His own club crashed into a retainer's thigh with a dull crack.
The man screamed and collapsed.
Zheng Gouzi didn't hesitate—he followed up with savage blows, efficient and merciless.
Another retainer rushed in from the side.
Before he could land his strike, a militia member intercepted the blow with a sharp crack.
Zheng Gouzi seized the opening and sent the man flying.
The Prince of Qin's retainers surged again—several charging at once.
Suddenly, Flat Rabbit let out a strange cry and rolled low across the ground.
His club became a blur.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Shins shattered.
Anyone who had ever been struck there knew—this pain went straight to the soul.
A whole row of retainers collapsed screaming.
One man, seeing Flat Rabbit crouched low, thought he had the advantage.
He raised his club and smashed downward.
Flat Rabbit planted his palms, launched himself upward, and slammed his forehead into the man's jaw.
Thump.
The retainer flew backward, unconscious.
From the very beginning, the outcome had been obvious.
This wasn't a battle.
It was a beating.
The Prince of Qin's men broke.
They fled toward the street corner—
Straight toward Wu Shen.
One retainer, eyes wild, swung his club at him.
The steward beside him nearly screamed in terror and kicked the man aside.
"Are you insane?" he hissed. "Hit servants if you must—but never a principal official! You'll doom the Prince!"
Before he could finish—
Smack.
Wu Shen's palm struck his face.
It was an ordinary slap.
No technique. No strength.
But it carried all the fury of an honest man humiliated.
The steward burned with rage—but rage was useless now.
He lowered his head and fled.
Straight into Dao Xuan Tianzun.
The steward recognized him.
The Prince of Qin's people had investigated thoroughly—this man was merely a descendant of a Tang-era branch line, no official rank, just a local gentry.
Wu Shen couldn't be touched.
But this man?
The steward raised his club and brought it down.
Dao Xuan Tianzun lifted his arm.
Thwack.
The club struck.
Then—
CRACK.
The wood splintered.
The steward froze.
Iron Cloth Shirt? Golden Bell Shield?
What kind of monster is this?
Before the thought finished—
Dao Xuan Tianzun's fist moved.
THWACK.
It felt like being struck by solid iron.
No give.
No mercy.
The steward screamed and flew backward, nose shattered, teeth exploding from his mouth in a spray of blood.
Before he could even crawl—
The Gao Family Village Militia arrived.
To strike Dao Xuan Tianzun himself?
That was blasphemy.
Clubs fell like rain.
Thud.
Crack.
Thud.
Had Dao Xuan Tianzun not forbidden killing, the man would have died on the spot.
As it was, survival was… uncertain.
Finally, a few terrified retainers dragged the broken steward away.
They fled toward the Prince of Qin's manor—
Leaving the street behind them soaked in silence.